Master Kurt Hummel – it was still new enough to give Kurt a thrill every time he so much as thought it – lounged on the wide cushioned window seat in the sunny sitting room, pencil in hand and drawing pad balanced against his bent knees. The light streaming through the big bow window was exactly perfect for sketching, but that was only part of the reason he'd chosen that spot to work in on this particular afternoon.

Master Quigley, the resident palace tailor – the other resident palace tailor Kurt reminded himself – had workrooms behind his shop in the bazaar that circled the palace's huge public courtyard. Those rooms were Kurt's favorite place to sew. There the familiarity of table, board, and bench and the hypnotic repetition of stitches his hands could make without his mind's consultation, wove a kind of spell around Kurt. They took him back in time to that other bench and board, with a different man sitting across from him. Despite the fact that the courtyard around them could have easily held the entire village of Pluna, at Master Quigley's board Kurt often forgot for hours on end that he'd ever been kidnapped, tortured, beaten, or rescued by a handsome prince who carried such heavy burdens. While he sewed Kurt could be the boy he'd been when his greatest worry was mastering the infernal prickstitch.

But when he imagined and drew – when he created in the figurative sense instead of the literal – Kurt always chose the exact opposite. Here in the rooms he'd shared with Sebastian for eight months now – longer than his captivity he was always shocked to realize. This place belonged to the Kurt Hummel who'd survived terrors worse than the Render's void and come out the other side alive and determined to take his place in the world. He had discovered in the months he'd been in Concordia City that he couldn't create the truly beautiful things that he was becoming increasingly known for without embracing all the ways he'd been changed since he'd fallen unconscious on the floor of his garret room. It was as inescapable as it was hard to accept. No matter how he tried, his best work was always done here, anchored in the reality of who he had become.

So Kurt sat in the window where the sunbeams illuminated his paper and his soul, simply for the sake of his work and not at all because the window also looked down onto the formal entrance court of the palace. And he smiled to himself because he was man enough to admit, if only to himself, that that was a complete lie.

Still, he kept his eyes on his work and not on the long road that circled toward him, up the highest hill in Concordia to the royal palace at the summit. If he glanced out the window, it was only to be inspired by the breathtaking view of the ocean beyond the city's port and harbor. The ocean was his touchstone for this gown. King Harold's fiftieth birthday would be celebrated in mere months and Crown Princess Larkin would be the most beautifully dressed woman present, if Kurt had anything to say about it. Which he did. If Sebastian was lucky he'd get a new suit as well, in a subtly matching theme. Perhaps something invoking a ship, riding the waves of his wife's skirts. Kurt smiled again. Yes. That would be a metaphor the public would adore. And even better, it would make Sebastian blush and scowl and Kurt and Larkin could laugh at him. Gently, of course. Sebastian did not like being laughed at.

Kurt himself would be in something equally regal, but entirely different. He liked to think he was doing his part for the realms by giving the court and the people of Concordia a visual reminder of the unity of their future king and queen. It wasn't quite as great an incentive as making Sebastian squirm, but it was more morally defensible. And he could afford to be magnanimous. After all, Sebastian had made it his mission to ensure that no one mistook the reality of their unconventional situation.

Ocean and ship. It was perfect. Inspired afresh – obviously sitting by the window had been exactly the right decision – Kurt applied himself to his sketch. But he'd only achieved a few contour lines when activity below drew his eyes back to the window. People were beginning to gather in front of the splendid arch that marked the entry into the palace proper. Far down toward the bottom of the hill Kurt could just make out a caravan of shining black carriages beginning the long ascent, bringing Prince Harold and Princess Larkin – along with a small army of servants and loads of luggage – back from the third of their traditional honeymoon visits to notable nobles of the realms. Kurt had accompanied them on the first two. They'd all agreed that it was important the people see them as a united front. But this time it had been out of the question.

Kurt was recovering. He was – he wasn't even lying a little when he assured Sebastian that he was doing better every day. He was busy now. He'd achieved his mastery, and in record time no less. He had more work than he could handle. He'd even taken on apprentices. Passing on Master Neric's knowledge was as important to him as making beautiful clothes. He lived in a palace. He regularly took tea with the queen of the realms and he slept every night with His Royal Highness Crown Prince Harold Sebastian Alastair Maurice. They lived together openly and the whole world knew how Sebastian felt about him. It was more than he'd ever dared to dream of. He was happy.

But no matter how often Kurt affirmed it, sadness always lurked around the corners of Sebastian's eyes and sometimes Kurt would look up from a sketch and catch him staring, like Kurt was a beautiful and strange bird he couldn't quite believe he'd captured. Nothing Kurt said could banish the dark uncertainty from Sebastian's face. Well, there was one thing Kurt could have said that might. But he still didn't trust it, even when he wanted to say it. I love you felt too much like a promise Kurt wasn't yet sure he could keep. Instead he smiled and touched and did everything else he could think of to show Sebastian that he was content. Still he knew a part of Sebastian was always waiting for the day Kurt would come to his senses and abandon him.

But today was about happy things, so Kurt shook off that thought and busied himself sketching out the shape of a sweeping formal skirt. He kept half an eye on the progress of the carriages as he worked. When the first and most ornate of the bunch turned and rolled past the shining palace gates he abandoned all pretense and stared down into the courtyard.

The king and queen were there now, distinguished from their gathered subjects only by the simple coronets that glittered on their heads. Kurt smiled down on them. King Harold and Queen Wilamina had turned out to be just exactly the kind of people you'd expect would produce a son like Sebastian. And they loved their son enough to accept his chosen partner, even thought that partner was a man and a thoroughly common one to boot. The past eight months had been fraught with negotiations, concessions, and changes to a social and political structure that had stood firm for more than a century. And despite all that, Kurt had never felt the slightest reproach from either of them. They'd met him with nothing but kindness that had grown to friendship and even fondness as time had gone by. They were extraordinary, in Kurt's opinion, and he was beginning to suspect that at least half of Sebastian's reticence to be king came from knowing what kind of precedent he would have to live up to.

Surrounding the royal couple in the courtyard were all the members of the king's cabinet – at least those who hadn't accompanied the Crown Prince and Princess on their journey. Important nobles and senior staff members arranged themselves behind the royals in order of rank, following a careful protocol they all seemed to have memorized from birth. Kurt could have been among them had he wished. Their majesties would have welcomed him. But he'd found that running to meet Sebastian like a pining lover wasn't quite to his taste. He was an important and busy man in his own right. A craftmaster with responsibilities he couldn't simply drop because his man had come home. And his refusal to play the part of eager paramour had given him and Sebastian their own little ritual for the rare occasions that they had to spend time apart. Plus it gave Kurt the chance to watch Sebastian, unseen, from above, and let his eagerness for their reunion play out strictly in private.

As the carriages trundled through the gates, most turned to pass into a side court for unloading. Only two stopped in front of the assemblage under the arch. Kurt knew the first would be carrying Sebastian and Larkin and when the coachman pulled the perfectly matched horses to a halt a pair of footmen in stiff livery rushed to stand at attention on either side of the door. One opened it and flipped down the steps built into the floor while the other extended a gloved hand to its occupants.

Larkin alighted first in a bright gold gown of Kurt's design. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than her head tilted up, searching the high windows. When her eyes found Kurt she grinned a greeting and gave him a wave that turned into a flourish indicating the carefully placed tilt of her wide-brimmed hat. Kurt smiled back at her and pantomimed applause. Larkin had come to them rough around the fashion edges, but Kurt's tutelage was paying off. The princess curtsied playfully then turned and ran to embrace the king and queen. Kurt didn't watch her go. His eyes were fixed on the carriage door.

Sebastian took his time. Most of the ministers had exited the second carriage before his black-booted foot appeared on the carriage step, his hand curled around the doorway, and then he was there, standing tall in the sunlight holding the full attention of everyone present.

Sebastian was back. Kurt's heart fluttered like a baby bird trying to keep itself aloft. Relief trickled down his spine, loosening muscles sore from three weeks of suppressed tension. He huffed a little, laughing at himself. Every time they were separated Kurt was sure he'd finally managed to conquer the anxiety of being away from Sebastian. And every time they came back together he realized how utterly he'd failed. This, he thought as he drank in Sebastian's form with hungry eyes, was another reason he couldn't give Sebastian the words he knew Sebastian longed for. How was he supposed to tell real love from the rush of emotion that came with simply feeling safe again? How could he separate gratitude from sexual longing from adoration? If only . . . but as he'd tried to tell Sebastian a million times, if only was a useless waste of time. Things were as they were. Whatever that was.

Kurt shook the thought away. Sebastian was back. There was no point in dwelling on emotions that he couldn't define. There were plenty that he could, in great detail, and he was beyond ready to start discussing those with Sebastian. His dick gave a happy throb, just in case he needed a reminder of what those feelings were. He didn't, of course. Not with Sebastian below, striding across the courtyard toward his parents with his hair dancing in the breeze coming off the sea.

He was naturally regal. It had surprised Kurt. Not wanting to be a prince didn't stop him from holding himself like one. Watching him here where he was most at home – despite his protestations – it was hard to imagine him being able pass himself off as a steward. And yet even though his back was straighter and his head held higher he never seemed stiff or formal. He'd grown comfortable in his royal skin. Accepted his destiny, Bess had said. Kurt had never forgotten that she'd also said he was at least partly responsible for that change. He liked that idea more and more as time went on.

Down in the courtyard Sebastian greeted his parents without turning to look up at Kurt's window.

Kurt let his sketch fall to the bench beside him and drank in his fill of the graceful lines of Sebastian's body. It had only been three weeks and Kurt had been so busy that the time certainly hadn't dragged. But it was their longest separation yet so Kurt felt fully justified letting his eyes linger on the broad shoulders and firm ass – thank the gods and tailors everywhere for split overcoats – until the happy little family group had moved into the palace. As soon as their backs were turned their carriages followed the others around the side of the palace toward to the stableyard and Kurt turned his attention back to his design. At least he pretended to. In his head he was counting Sebastian's strides as he made his way through the palace. Sooner than he'd expected – but not soon enough – he heard mumbled voices outside the door. The guard stationed there swung it open. Kurt held tight to his sketch but when Sebastian stepped across the threshold Kurt couldn't bring himself to pretend to work any longer.

Sebastian entered with a flourish, cocky grin firmly in place. Kurt sat up straighter but didn't rise. He quirked an eyebrow at Sebastian's dramatics but Sebastian's grin only widened. Behind him two burly footmen pushed through the door, struggling under the weight of the royal trunk.

"Just leave it in the bedroom," Sebastian commanded. "We'll deal with it later."

"As you say, sir." The lead servant nodded and led the other down the hall to their chamber.

They were, briefly, alone. Sebastian didn't speak. But he let the grin drop to a provocative smirk. Kurt stayed put on his cushioned seat but he didn't even try to tear his eyes away from the toned body and pink lips across the room. Letting his want show still felt new to him, but Sebastian's response to it always made the risk worthwhile.

There was a thump from down the hall then the two servants appeared again. "That's done then, Your Royal Highness," the lead man said.

Kurt wondered if anyone besides him ever noticed the way Sebastian's left eye twitched and the curve of his smile faltered for an instant anytime he was addressed with his brother's title. The servant certainly didn't. He sketched a bow in Sebastian's direction that was echoed by the other man, then turned and bowed to Kurt as well. "Master," he said by way of greeting, then both servants were gone.

There was always such relief in servants' voices when they used Kurt's new title. Finally he had a place in the hierarchy that defined court life. Technically, he'd been Royal Consort for months, but Royal Consort was a title Sebastian had invented and didn't come with an honorific to make servants feel comfortable.

"Master," Sebastian intoned once the door had closed and they were alone. "I like it."

"Not half as much as I do," Kurt said.

Neither of them moved. Sebastian leaned back against the wall behind him like he had nowhere else to be, and Kurt rested on the window seat, one foot on the floor, the other bent up on the seat so that his legs were spread ever so casually. They stared at each other, and the hunger crackled in the air between them. Kurt wanted to run to Sebastian, of course, but this was what they did. Like a game. He couldn't even remember how it had started but every reunion was a competition to see who would break first and reach out to touch. They would circle each other, both pretending not to need as much as they did and drawing out the anticipation until it became too much and someone broke. Someone was usually Kurt. He blamed Sebastian's lifelong royal training in self-control. But today Kurt was determined to win. And he had a secret weapon.

"I missed you," Sebastian purred.

"I suppose the bed was a little cold without you," Kurt retaliated.

"So you noticed I was gone."

"What can I say? I missed the body heat."

"Liar." Sebastian's eyes twinkled. "You missed the fucking."

Kurt didn't honor that with an answer. "How was Eastreach?" he asked instead.

Sebastian made a face. "Exactly like you'd imagine. Being back there was like a reliving a bad dream all over again."

"You knew it would be."

"Speaking of bad dreams . . ." Sebastian arched an eyebrow at Kurt.

Kurt sighed. "A few. I survived."

"Kurt."

"Sebastian." Kurt matched Sebastian's reproving tone. "They're just nightmares. I barely even remember them. I honestly think they're harder on you than they are on me."

He was telling the truth. While it was certainly shocking to wake up in a cold sweat with tears running down his face, Kurt usually retained nothing more from his nightmares than a shapeless sense of terror. It was Sebastian who had to hold him while he cried out from horrors Sebastian could all too easily imagine, or – worse yet – who had to huddle trembling on the other side of the room on the nights when Kurt lashed out at him, screaming and kicking him away. Sometimes Kurt didn't wake up at all, and he only knew he'd had a nightmare by Sebastian's dark circled, haunted eyes over the breakfast table.

"I don't want to talk about nightmares," Kurt said firmly. "I'm fine. You've been gone for three weeks," he flashed a provocative smirk, "and I have a present for you."

For a moment Kurt worried that Sebastian wasn't going to let it go. But then he smiled and said, "I'm the one who went away. Shouldn't I be bringing the presents?"

"Please. What could you possibly bring from there that I'd want?"

He'd intended it to come out light and nonchalant but Kurt could hear the bitterness in the words and Sebastian certainly did as well. His expression shifted and for a moment he looked painfully young. He was young, so was Kurt. They were both hardly more than boys, wrestling with so much more than they should have to bear.

Kurt gave Sebastian a rueful smile and Sebastian returned it. "How about news?" Sebastian asked. "I have some I think you'll like."

"News of the duke's slow and painful death?"

"Sadly, no," Sebastian said. "But at least I can promise you no one else is going through what you did."

Kurt sighed. He'd really hoped they were done with serious topics. He wanted the Sebastian who would tease him about fucking. He wanted to be kissed for hours, and held in warm arms. He wanted to watch desire banish the sadness that lurked so close in Sebastian's eyes. But Sebastian was like a dog with a bone with it came to needing to make sure Kurt was okay. That was a good thing, Kurt told himself. Usually.

"We went over the whole place, towers to dungeons," Sebastian was saying. "Talk about a nightmare. But there's nothing. No one's been taken. No one's going to be taken again."

"He would have expected you to look. He might have hidden –"

Sebastian shook his head. "We searched at night after he was asleep. He didn't know. I even checked his bedroom while he was snoring away."

Kurt had to laugh at that. "You did not sneak into the bedroom of the Duke of Eastreach in the middle of the night."

"Ask Tom. He kept watch while I peeked under the bed."

"You're insane."

"I also checked in with all of my spies. No one's seen anything."

"Are you sure they're still your spies?" Kurt asked. "Men can be bought. With more than just money."

"Which is why I also pay two scullery maids and a laundress. He's not going to do it again. He can't."

"Well I suppose that is good news," Kurt said. "It makes me feel better."

"Oh fuck!" Sebastian's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "I almost forgot! I have some even better news. Well, maybe not better, but different. And good!"

Kurt laughed at his fumbling. And he kept laughing as Sebastian finally crossed the room and sat on the opposite end of the window seat, pulling one leg up onto it in a mirror image of Kurt's posture. The toes of their boots touched, but that didn't count. Only skin to skin touching counted. Still, Sebastian had moved when Kurt hadn't. One point for him.

"So, news?" Kurt smiled as he said it.

"Larkin," Sebastian said, letting it linger for effect, "is pregnant."

The breath left Kurt's lungs in a whoosh of genuine surprise. "Oh my gods! Sebastian! That's amazing."

"It's way the fuck more than amazing. Do you realize what this means?"

Kurt realized what it meant. He could see it, sitting on Sebastian's lap, reaching out for him, a little boy with curious green eyes and wavy chestnut hair that shone in the sunlight and a smile that made Kurt's heart ache.

"Well it . . . means I'm going to have a dozen women begging me to make them gowns for the name day ceremony," he stammered, still bewitched by the vision of baby Sebastian, "and, gods! Another couple of months and Larkin won't fit into anything, my design's going to have to be completely different . . . thank the gods I hired three apprentices. And Master Quigley's going to have a complete breakdown when he hears . . ."

Sebastian dismissed all that with a wave of his hand. "Much more to the point it means that between the pregnancy and nursing – because my perfect wife already insists she's doing that herself – I'll probably have a good two years before I have to do . . . that . . . again." He shuddered dramatically, just to drive home the level of his disgust with that. Which made Kurt feel warm and happy, although Sebastian didn't need to know that.

"Larkin is a treasure," he chided. "You don't even begin to deserve her. Don't forget we couldn't do any of this without her."

"Larkin is a gift from the gods," Sebastian allowed, "but she's a gift with girl parts. And I like boy parts." He smirked and slid his foot between Kurt's legs to press the sole of his boot against Kurt's crotch. "Lucky for you."

Kurt's dick really, really liked the pressure from Sebastian's foot. But it was a trap. Sebastian was just trying to lull him into being the first to touch. Well Master Kurt Hummel would not be so easily won over. Not this time anyway. He pulled his face into a mask of stern disapproval. "It's not like she wants to be doing it any more than you do. And she really does try to make it easier for you, you know."

Sebastian's foot froze and his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? How do you know . . .?" Narrow eyes went wide as the implication hit him. "Are you talking to her about it? Are you . . . oh my gods Kurt. Please tell me you're not giving her tips?"

Sebastian's voice and eyebrows went so high Kurt wanted to giggle but he wisely stifled that urge and instead shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. "She cares about you. We both do. Is it wrong to want to try to help make your unpleasant duty a little less . . . unpleasant?"

Sebastian's head fell back against the wall with a thump. "Render, just take me now," he prayed to the ceiling.

"Stop being a baby. Concentrate on the happy things. For two whole years the only person you have to worry about satisfying sexually is me." Kurt was proud of himself for managing to not sound smug. After all, he loved Larkin. But he couldn't say he'd be sad to not have Sebastian doing . . .that . . . for a while. "And then you only have to get her pregnant one more time and –"

"I'm free forever," Sebastian breathed, like he hadn't put the pieces together until Kurt said it out loud. "Maybe life is worth living after all."

"Ooh, but what if it's a girl?" Kurt asked.

Sebastian didn't even consider letting that thought dampen his mood. "Two children." He held up two fingers for emphasis. "That's what I promised and that's what I'm going to deliver."

"Who's going to deliver?"

"You know what I mean."

"What if they're both girls?"

Sebastian blew out a puff of air and glared at Kurt. "Then I will personally murder all the members of my father's cabinet, appoint puppets who'll do anything I say, and rewrite the constitution so that women can inherit the throne. Two children. That's all. If they come out puppies then a puppy shall rule." He pressed his foot down again, pretending to threaten Kurt's dick. "Any objections?"

"Much as I want to be appalled by your callous disregard for tradition and human life," Kurt teased, "I have to admit your dedication to being mine and mine alone is very compelling."

"Good. Because I believe I was promised a present. Yet I see nothing."

That was Kurt's cue and he was more than ready to move their little reunion along to the fun part. Smiling, he slid around Sebastian's boot and pushed up onto his knees, then he shuffled forward until he was straddling Sebastian's lap. The sparkle in Sebastian's eyes darkened to something much more intense and his fingers twitched with the effort of not reaching out to touch. Kurt tasted victory and more and he leaned as close as he dared.

"I waited for you," Kurt murmured.

"I know you did. I saw you from the carriage. I watched you. I watched you wait for me." Sebastian's smile went soft, almost shy, the way it always did when Kurt let his need for him show. Kurt loved that smile so much that it almost undid all his hard work. Almost. But he was determined.

"That's not what I mean," he said. "What I meant is, while you were gone. I waited. For you."

It took Sebastian a few seconds to understand. While he waited Kurt dropped lower until he was sitting on Sebastian's lap, on his half-hard cock. The cock figured it out before Sebastian did. It throbbed to life against Kurt's ass just as Sebastian gulped in a shocked breath. "Do you mean you haven't . . .?"

Kurt shook his head.

"For three weeks?"

'Three very, very, very long weeks." Kurt rolled his hips on every very, just to make his point.

Sebastian groaned like he'd been mortally wounded. When he spoke his voice was all air and very little voice. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"I know you didn't. That's what makes it a present."

They stared at each other for the longest time, touching as intimately as they could with clothes on but still not touching, in the way that counted. Kurt willed Sebastian to move, because he didn't know how long he could hold out with those lips so close and those eyes trying to eat him alive.

Finally, "I'm going to destroy you," Sebastian breathed but his hands didn't move.

"That's the idea," Kurt countered.

"I'm going to tie you down and worship that body until the only words you can remember are my name and please."

Kurt shivered. He pressed down harder so he could use it to torture Sebastian. "I'm hearing a lot of talk. Not seeing much action."

"I am going to come in you and on you and . . . any other place I can think of . . . until you're begging me to finally let you erupt."

"Still talking," Kurt taunted.

"Oh fuck me." Sebastian grabbed Kurt by the back of the neck and pulled him in hard, crashing their mouths together in hot, desperate reunion at long fucking last. His tongue was hot, demanding and Kurt's body swelled with the wild joy he always felt when Sebastian's need for him pitched this intense and abandoned. He wrapped his arms around Sebastian's neck and rode his cock until they were both gasping for breath against each other's lips. But when Sebastian broke the kiss Kurt still had the presence of mind to grin at him.

"I win!"

"Did you really?" Sebastian leered at him. "Let's see if you still feel that way in a couple of hours."

As it happened, Kurt did.

Stretched naked on the bed covered with his own sweat and the issue of Sebastian's three orgasms, holding tight to the curtain pulls he'd attached to the bedposts (because Sebastian was nowhere near ready to actually tie him down, no matter what he said), with Sebastian's mouth doing things that should be illegal to his aching cock, Kurt felt like the luckiest man alive.

"Oh fuck," he moaned when Sebastian dipped his tongue into his slit and fluttered it in that way that always made the whole world spin upside down.

"I love it when you curse," Sebastian paused long enough to murmur.

"Don't stop. Gods, I missed that."

"Only that?" Sebastian asked, but he was gentleman enough to tongue Kurt's slit again, so he was too busy moaning to have to answer.

Kurt arched under him, desperate to press deeper into that gorgeous mouth. "Don't you think it's time I got to come?"

Sebastian raised his head and fixed Kurt with the predatory stare that Kurt hadn't seen often enough since Eastreach. "Don't you think you'd better rephrase that?"

Kurt matched Sebastian's provocation with his own. "Please," he drew it out for emphasis and because he knew how much Sebastian loved it. "Please make me come."

"Hmmm. I don't know. Do you deserve it?"

"I waited three weeks." Kurt put on a little pout.

"That's the problem." Sebastian shifted, which took his mouth farther from Kurt's dick. Kurt whimpered a protest, but Sebastian wrapped his fingers around Kurt's straining cock instead, circled his thumb over the damp head, and that was almost as good.

"What problem? There's no problem," Kurt panted.

"The problem is I wasn't here to see it. You sat here every night and teased yourself and lay in bed throbbing for me . . ."

The thumb circled, winding Kurt up until it was too much. "Yes, exactly, all those nights laying here thinking about you, only you, Sebastian please . . ."

"But I wasn't here to see it. I didn't even know about it."

"I could have sent you a message," Kurt said as he writhed under Sebastian's hand, "but I thought that might be . . . indiscreet."

"Really?"

"Dear Sebastian, please come home because I'm torturing myself for you every night and I really fucking need to come . . ."

"I didn't get to hear you moan or make that little desperate whine you do when you get really close."

"I'll make it up to you, I swear. Please, Sebastian."

"Yes! That whine. I love that whine." Sebastian's thumb slowed just enough to keep Kurt from toppling over the edge he was straining for. "I really think the only way you can make it up to me is by going another three weeks so I can actually watch."

Kurt did his best to glare at Sebastian, which was no easy thing when he was covered in milky seed and trying to hump Sebastian's hand. "That had better be a joke, or I'll –"

"You'll what?" Sebastian leaned close. "What exactly do you think you can do tied up and helpless at my mercy? Oh no, little tailor. I'm in charge now."

Yes, it was all for show. They didn't even have a safeword. Sebastian had told Kurt about safewords, but after Eastreach the only safeword they needed was no. Even the tiniest hint of reluctance on Kurt's part always brought Sebastian to a crashing halt. Kurt knew that Sebastian had things to recover from too, but he was determined to eventually spur his lover to the kind of dominance Sebastian craved as much as he did. So he clung to his tassels and undulated like he really was helpless even as he glared daggers at his prince.

"That's master tailor to you," he goaded.

"Really? So high and mighty now. Let's see how haughty you are when my mouth is back on that cock."

Sebastian ducked down and Kurt closed his eyes and cried out as his shaft was engulfed in the heat of Sebastian's mouth. The plush softness of Sebastian's throat closed around his throbbing head and swallowed and world spun and spun and spun . . .

"Don't be mad at me."

Kurt sighed. He had just come for the first time in three weeks and he was spooned tight and safe in Sebastian's arms at last. His brain was still spinning and his body was still trembling and all he wanted was to be held while he drifted into a completely contented nap.

"What did you do now?" he asked instead.

"What you asked me not to."

Kurt summoned up the energy to wriggle around and face Sebastian. His eyes were wary – a look Kurt saw far too much. He wanted to kiss Sebastian and make the look go away, but he also kind of wanted to hit him in the face. "You went to Pluna."

"I had to."

"And you waited to tell me this until after the sex."

"I'm not a complete idiot."

"That's very much debatable."

Sebastian had the good grace to look guilty at least. "Three weeks is a long time. I missed you."

Kurt sighed again. "I told you before you went that I didn't need –"

"But I did, Kurt." Sebastian didn't shout, but his words carried the same weight as a shout. "I needed to find out how it could happen. And I needed to know if there was . . ."

"Anyone to punish?" Kurt finished for him. "That wasn't your decision to make."

"I love you!" It came out with even more force than the not-shout. It wasn't the first time Sebastian had said it, but Kurt knew he tried not to, because he didn't want Kurt to feel pressured. Kurt touched Sebastian's cheek, cupped his palm around his jaw, tried to make up for not saying it back.

"This terrible thing happened," Sebastian said, quieter, soothed by Kurt's touch, "and I don't get any say in how we deal with it?"

"No," Kurt said quietly. "Because it didn't happen to you."

"Kurt . . ."

Kurt let go of Sebastian and rolled onto his back, staring up at the heavy beams in the ceiling. "But since you went, you might as well tell me."

Sebastian settled on his back too but he reached over and took Kurt's hand. He twined their fingers together and held tight. "You were right. Your Master Neric died the day after you disappeared."

Kurt had known, but his heart squeezed to hear Sebastian say it.

"He never woke up. He didn't know you'd been taken."

"Genaa?" Kurt asked quietly.

"She's still there. She rents out the shop, but she still lives behind it."

"She must have been surprised to find the Crown Prince of the realms in her parlor."

"She just kept telling me how sorry she was."

Kurt turned to look at Sebastian's profile. "Sorry for what?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I think that she didn't do more to find out what happened to you."

"No!" Kurt rolled further toward Sebastian, still holding his hand tight. "She lost her husband, she didn't need to –"

"I told her that. I told her you never would have expected her to."

"Did you tell her what happened?"

Sebastian stared up at the ceiling and shook his head. "Not everything. I didn't think you'd want me to. I made up some story about you taking a walk and getting kidnapped by idiots who thought your fancy clothes meant you had money. Fucking ridiculous, really, but she bought it. I told her by the time you escaped them you were almost to Concordia City so you just stayed. Then I went on and on about you being the youngest master in a generation and making clothes for the queen and she cried. There was so much crying. It was . . . awkward."

Kurt smiled in spite of himself. "Oh, poor Sebastian. It serves you right for doing what I told you not to."

"Then I called a meeting of the village council."

Kurt lay silent for a long time, trying to decide how much he wanted to know. Sebastian was silent too, waiting for him. Finally Kurt took a deep breath and said, "And?"

"And . . . they all insisted they had no idea what had happened to you." Sebastian spoke slowly. Kurt could tell he was choosing his words with care.

"And you believed them?"

"I believed they weren't specifically involved."

"Specifically?"

Sebastian sighed and rolled onto his side to face Kurt. "The story I got was, basically, that Gavin was telling the truth. The village only had about half the tax money they needed. The collector was demanding payment so they called an emergency meeting of the council the night you were taken. And the tailor's son –"

"Cale," Kurt supplied.

"Cale," Sebastian spat it like the name burned his tongue. "He told the council he knew the tax collector. Said he could persuade the man to take what the village had and go. But it had to be done privately. He gave the impression favors were owed that were better kept . . . discreet. The council members were desperate so they just handed over the money and the next morning both Cale and the tax man had gone. Neither of them has been seen again."

"And the fact that I disappeared too?" Kurt asked.

"Coincidence, they told themselves. The two things probably had nothing to do with each other. You had your journeyman's letter, after all, and you'd always wanted to get out of Pluna. They said they were all sure you'd just decided to move on."

"Of course they were," Kurt said and there must have been more bitterness in his words than he'd intended because now Sebastian cupped his cheek, and ran his thumb soothingly across his chin.

"The wife – Genaa – she was smarter. She went to the council and told them how worried she was. She said there was no way you would have just left, especially with the master ill. But if the council had started any real investigation it might have alerted someone to the fact that they'd wriggled off the hook with the taxes and they didn't think . . . well, you know."

"I do know," Kurt said. "They didn't think it was worth the risk to try to help the strange, stuck up tailor's apprentice who'd never fit in and didn't have anyone to come looking for him anyway."

"Something like that," Sebastian murmured. "They knew – they must have known – but I don't think any of them actually had anything to with what happened. I'm pretty sure they were all too overwhelmed by, well, me, to have managed to lie convincingly."

Kurt turned onto his back again. He wrapped his arms around his middle and held himself tight. "Poor Sebastian. No one to punish."

"I could try to track down the –"

"No! Gods, no. Just leave it alone. The last thing I want is to bring it all back again. I just want to keep . . . moving forward."

Silence hung between them for a moment and Kurt was afraid Sebastian was working up to tell him something else, maybe something even worse than the fact that almost no one in the village where he'd grown up had cared at all about whether he'd lived or died, but when Sebastian spoke it was something altogether different.

"So now I can tell you that I did bring you a present after all."

"What?" Kurt asked vaguely. His mind was still mostly back in Pluna.

Sebastian got up and Kurt's eyes followed his naked ass as he went to the trunk the servants had left against the far wall. He rummaged for a bit then turned to Kurt with a fabric-wrapped bundle in his hands. Kurt sat up and Sebastian dropped the bundle next to him on the bed.

He knew what it was the moment he touched it, but he unwrapped the plain black felt slowly anyhow, unfolding it layer by layer until the bright metal of Master Neric's shears shone up at him.

"She said he'd have wanted you to have them," Sebastian said.

Kurt couldn't speak. He turned back another fold to reveal a leather measuring tape, two thimbles, and one of the many pincushions he'd spent so much time filling with threaded needles a lifetime ago.

"She said he'd be so proud to know that you were already teaching the things he taught you. Then she cried some more."

Kurt smiled, but he couldn't look away from the precious objects on the bed. They had defined his master – they were Master Neric in every meaningful way. And now he, Kurt, would take them forward and create his own world with them.

"She also gave me this."

Kurt looked up then, saw what Sebastian held, and a fist closed with crushing force around his throat and cut off his breath. Tears out of nowhere filled his eyes and spilled unchecked down his cheeks. The polished wooden box in Sebastian's hands gleamed in the sunlight like a miracle.

"She said she found it under your bed after you'd . . . gone." Sebastian took a faltering step closer, close enough to put it next to the gifts already on the bed.

Kurt's throat unblocked on an ugly sob, followed by more that filled the room as he stared, afraid to touch it, afraid it would disappear if he let himself believe it was real.

"I'll . . . um, I'll leave you alone," Sebastian stammered. "I'm sure my mother's dying to . . . gush over the baby, or something. I'll let you . . ."

On the edge of his vision, through his tears, Kurt saw Sebastian disappear into the dressing room. He stifled his cries enough to croak, "Sebastian!"

The handsome face appeared in the doorway, tight with emotion. Kurt scrubbed at his eyes, clearing them so that Sebastian would see how fervently he meant it when he said, "Thank you."

Sebastian smiled, nodded, and was gone.

The sky was darkening by the time the sounds of Sebastian returning to their suite penetrated the outer door. Kurt had finally stopped crying. He'd cried for a very long time. He felt drained. He felt light as a feather. He felt heavy with possibility.

Sebastian froze in the doorway, probably surprised to find Kurt sitting on the bed, still naked, with the contents of the box spread across the mattress in front of him.

"Oh, you're not . . . I'm sorry. I'll come back –"

"Don't go," Kurt stopped Sebastian before he could turn away. "I want you to stay. I want to show you."

Surprise then hope then unmarred happiness chased each other across Sebastian's face. Kurt had to stop himself from laughing at him. Sebastian didn't like to be laughed it.

"Show me what?" Sebastian asked lightly.

Kurt smiled down at the objects on the bed.

A black ribbon sat in the center of the collection, shining, not the slightest bit frayed, just long enough to tie around a child's thimble finger to train it into place. Next to it were two wooden dolls – a girl and a boy – dressed in ornate miniature clothing that would rival anything found at a royal ball. There were two bundles of dried flowers in fading pastel colors, a swatch of yellow silk whose bright intensity seemed to mock the old blossoms, more bits of clothing for the little dolls, and a letter, written on stiff parchment curled at the ends like it had spent a long time rolled up tight. By my rights and expertise as a fully-qualified master of the craft of tailoring, I, Neric Warnock . . .

"Me," Kurt said in belated answer to Sebastian's question. He gestured at the objects on the bed. "This is me. Who I was before . . . everything happened. I want you to see."

"I already see," Sebastian said. "I've always seen."

But he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed behind Kurt, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other around his chest, holding tight. Kurt let himself fall back in Sebastian's arms, his bare back pressing against the silk of Sebastian's waistcoat. He felt Sebastian's chin land heavy on his shoulder and Sebastian's lips brush the hollow behind his ear as he whispered, "Show me."